Unhappy Ending REPOSTED
by Ms. Moonstar
Summary: CHAPT. 4 UP!What if one of the Canon stories ended diffrently? Please RR! COMPLETED STORY!
1. Unhappy Endings 1: The Speckled Band

'Unhappy Ending'  
  
By Ms. Neptune Holmes  
  
Hello Everyone. FANFIC.NET DELETED MY STORY!! ;-; AHHHH!!!!!! ALL MY REVIEW ARE GONE!! So I had to fix it and now I'm reposting it. BTW I also fixed all the errors that I had before; it should all be corrected now. Thanks to all who pointed it out and to those who reviewed THE FIRST TIME.  
  
Summary: What if the stories that we know came out different than we know?  
  
Disclaimer: The Characters of this story, as well as the story it is based on do not belong to me. They are the property of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. No money is being made from it.  
  
Unhappy Endings (The Speckled Band)  
  
"Do you see it Watson? Do you see it?" Came the voice of my friend Sherlock Holmes.  
  
I held the candle close to see what lay at the end of the dogleash.  
  
"It's a Swamp Addler, one of the most venomous snakes in India,"exclaimed my friend Sherlock Holmes.  
  
Lifting the leash carefully, Holmes was about to toss it into the open safe, when the creature lashed out. I heard a cry, and so startled was I by it, that I dropped the candle holder, which clanked to the floor and extinguished itself.  
  
"Holmes? HOLMES?!" I yelled  
  
"Here Waton." came the shaky relpy of my friend. I quickly lit one of the gas lamps in the room, which illuminated it slightly, and then turned back to face Holmes. His usually gaunt face was etched with pain as he cradled his left arm with his right. I rushed to his side.  
  
"Holmes! Don't move!" I looked at the wound. Two small puncture marks had made holes in my friend's jacket, just above the wrist. Sadly I concluded that he was not long for this world.  
  
"I'll go fetch my medical kit. You'll be alright Holmes." I said sternly getting up and turned to the door again, but Holmes's hand caught my sleeve.  
  
"Ms. Stoner- her sister's death; the posion killed her within minutes. No, my friend, there is nothing that can save me now," he whispered. His breathing was labored now.  
  
"I want-you-too know," he murmmered in a small voice, "that-it-was-an- honour-to-have-you-as-a-companion-and, " he tried to catch a breath, and continued "and-a-collague."  
  
I smiled, but tears soon ran down my cheeks. "Thank you Holmes."  
  
"I-have-a-brother-named-Mycroft."  
  
"Yes Holmes?"  
  
"Please-tell him-that-I-love-him." He gasped  
  
"Of course." I replied  
  
My friend half smiled. Then, his head fell into my lap, and he let out a ragged breath as he closed his eyes for the final time.  
  
THE END.......... (MUHAHAHAHA!! ^-^) 


	2. UnHappy Endings 2: The Final Problem

Unhappy Endings (Part 2)  
  
By Ms. Neptune Holmes  
  
Hi everyone. After the great responses I got from all of you (at least all who reviewed) I decided to continue with this little series and do an alternate ending to another story.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~  
  
And now to my Reviewers:  
  
Brink: SURE! It would be my pleasure to do an ending for that story ^_^  
  
DramaActress: No Prob. Sometimes you do tend to get sent to places unknown at FF.NET. Thanks.  
  
Hermoine Holmes: *bows* Merci! I'm glad you liked it ^_^  
  
Maeve: Hmmmm. Don't look now but............  
  
Queen Of Spain: Thanks. I had this on a Sherlock Holmes Messageboard at one time and the people there came up with some great stories too.  
  
Shannon Holmes: Thanks. Sorry 'bout the sad ending.  
  
```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````` ``````````````````` Summary: What if the stories that we know came out different than we know?  
  
Disclaimer: The Characters of this story, as well as the story it is based on do not belong to me. They are the property of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. No money is being made from it.  
  
And now to THE STORY!  
  
UnHappy Endings Part 2: The Final Problem  
  
"Herr Holmes! Herr Holmes!" a voice called behind us. Holmes and I were traveling through Switzerland in hopes of catching up with Holmes' nemisis Professor James Moriarty. We decided to move on to the next town, called Rosenlaui, when this young man of I guessed, no more of fourteen caught up with Holmes and I as we made our way up to Richenbach Falls. This young man with bellowing blond locks and azure eyes looked up at me with a troubled face. Then, he spoke with in heavily accented English. "Herr Holmes, we are in desperate need of Herr Doctor Watson. 'zer is a voman dying of 'ze consumption, and shve vants an English Docter. You must came vite avay."  
  
I looked at Holmes, who nodded. "You must tend to a patient Watson. I will meet you in Rosenlaui."  
  
"Very well, Holmes. I will see you shortly, then."  
  
I was led down the path and hill by the young man. When we were close to the villiage, he said, " Ve vere very lucky to have you hare, Herr Docter. Vrom vhat I hear, Shve is not long vor dis vorld. Too bad Herr Holmes is not vas vortunate."  
  
I looked over to him. "Eh? What do you mean boy? " I exclaimed. Instantly I knew the young man had said something that he should not have, because he turned his head away and focused his gaze at the town. I grabbed him roughly by the arm and forced him to meet eyes with me.  
  
"What do you mean 'Holmes is not as fortunate' ANSWER ME!" I bellowed.  
  
Letting out a deep sigh, he muttered, "I vas given a message and vas told it vas from 'is vriend."  
  
"And what did this person look like. pray?"  
  
"Ve vas tall, vad grey eyes, deeply suken, vin (thin). Looked like a scholar to me Herr Docter."  
  
That was enough for me to know who he was describing; Professor Moriarty! I ran up the path as fast as my wounded leg would let me. It seemed to take me an eternity to reach the top of the falls. When I did, I saw two figures, deep in conflict and knew at once who they were.  
  
Creeping closer, I saw Holmes take his nemisis by the arm, and performed Baritsu, a form of Japanese wrestling. The older man however got his second wind and punched my friend squarely in the stomach. Pulling out my gun, I aimed it towards Moriarty, but after a second thought, lowered it, not wanting to accidently shoot my friend.  
  
The lanky professor grasped Holmes by the neck and threw him towards the edge. I had seen enough. I leaped in front of my collegue and was about to pull him up, but Holmes caught hold of my sleeve and made me abandon the thought of saving the man.  
  
Eventually, his hand slid from the the ledge. We both heard the muffled yell of the professor before his cries sounded with the rushing water.  
  
Sighing, Holmes peered over the chasam.  
  
"We have finally rid the world of Professor James Moriarty, Watson." He murmured.  
  
The End  
  
A/N: Okay that wasn't exactly an UNHAPPY ending (Except for Professor Moriarty) but I wanted Holmes to live, it made sense for him to live, if you read the Canon. 


	3. Unhappy Endings 3 : The Dying Detective

UNHAPPY ENDINGS (PART THREE)  
  
By Ms. Neptune Holmes.  
  
A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks to the great reviews, I have decided to write another "UNHAPPY ENDINGS" adventure.  
  
Chibi Hermione: Thanks! I will have to read that story, but I would be happy to write "Copper Beeches"  
  
Brink: Thank you! Yes I was thinking something along that line, I didn't want to write another story where Holmes died.  
  
Nooka: Glad you liked it! *calls down to Moriarty* Have a NICE swim!  
  
P.S. anything with a ( ) is an author's note. Please scroll down to the bottom to read.  
  
THAT BEING SAID, ONWARD!  
  
Summary: What if the stories that we know came out different than we know?  
  
Disclaimer: The Characters of this story, as well as the story it is based on do not belong to me. They are the property of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. No money is being made from it.  
  
Unhappy Endings Part three: The Dying Detective  
  
My Friend Mr. Sherlock Holmes looked upon Doctor Culverton Smith with a disgusted manner, his grey eyes flashing with both the triumph of bringing him down and loathing of the man. Inspector Mortan of the Yard sneered at the prisoner and then announced "Doctor Culverton Smith, I arrest you for the attempted murder of Mr. Sherlock Holmes. "  
  
I saw Holmes smile through his gaunt face. "One moment Inspector Morstan, I believe that there is another crime for which he should be charged. He also confessed to me, though unknowingly, to the murder of one Mr. Victor Savage. That will be his undoing I'm afraid." Holmes said this in almost a gleeful tone. I watched the hand of Doctor Smith slide into his own coat pocket and then quickly remove it.  
  
"Anything else before we go?" the Scotland Yarder addressed both prisoner and detective.  
  
Smith spoke up in his high pitched tone, "I would like to shake the hand of such a worthy advesary. You hade me duped, Mister Holmes, I truely believed you to be ill and close to death. " The smaller man extended his hand, which my friend took, but then gave a small alarm of pain.  
  
"Oy, now you can add assult to that list. C'mon now!" yelled Inspector Mortan as he bustled the prisoner to the open door, The constable standing nearby closed it behind him.  
  
Holmes went to the window. When he heard the departing hoofbeats of the police wagon, he called to me, "Watson, please accept my humblest of apologies and remove yourself from that place. I am not feeling quite myself." He collapsed onto his bed with a ragged sigh. "Do forgive me my dear fellow, " Holmes continued, "Three days of fasting and some other tools are to explain for my false affliction. However, Watson, when Culverton Smith went to shake my hand, he concealed a small needle of about 300 millimeters. (1) I did not realize this until it had struck my pointer finger. He had positioned the needle to conceal it completely."  
  
"But Why? If he did not think you long for this world, then why would he try to posion you again?" I asked, baffled.  
  
"Because Watson, he carries those extra little needles around with him, so that if someone should stand in his way then, well, they would suffer the consequences." (2) Holmes's voice seemed quieter now. " Now Watson, I am not up to my regular standards, but I think a good night's sleep will remedy that. Good Night." He went upstairs and I heard the door close. Exausted by the day's events, I too decided to retire for the evening.  
  
Three days passed, during which I saw nothing of Holmes. I considered him to be resting, which was a normal occurance after a case, because of his strange constitution. I was in and out of our rooms in Baker Street, attending to my surgery. Early one morning, four days after my friend had retreated to his room, I awoke to someone shaking my shoulder. Mrs. Hudson was standing over me, looking quite fearful.  
  
"Doctor Watson, you must come with me at once! Something's wrong with Mister Holmes!" she said in a unusual high pitch  
  
I sat straight up in bed. "Are you sure?" I gasped. Mrs Hudson, nodded, tears in her eyes.  
  
"Oh, Yes sir. He was thrashing around, and he's sweating terribly ."  
  
I threw on my dressing gown, grabbed my medical bag and headed to Holmes's room, Mrs. Hudson in tow. Pulling the door open, I instantly reconized the smell of a sickroom. Rushing over to my fallen friend, I quickly examined him, and discovered to my horror that he had come down with Yellow Fever. His pulse was rapid and his breathing was erratic.  
  
I turned to the landlady, "Mrs. Hudson, would you please retrieve a basin of water and a few small towls?" she nodded and left, coming back with the items I requested.  
  
"What's wrong with him, Doctor?" she whispered, wringing her hands desperately.  
  
"I'm afraid it's Yellow Fever." I said sadly, which caused the woman to gasp. Placing the cloth in the basin, I squeezed out the access and placed it lengthwise on Holmes's wide forehead. "There's nothing more that we can do for him. His life is in his own hands now."  
  
Days went by without any improvement in Holmes's condition. Rarely did I leave his bedside, save for those very desperate calls to surgery. Much of my days and nights were at spent at his side. Mrs. Hudson brought me my meals as I sat next to the bed which Holmes occupied. She spent almost as much time as I going in and out of the room, bringing me tea, and other things I required to tend to my ill friend. Before I knew it, a month had passed, though there was little change in Holmes's health. I had no doubt that his wiry constitution and iron will was helping him fight for his life, an soon remedied it.  
  
One morning around seven, I awoke to the shallow calm breathing of my friend. Stretching in the chair, I leaned over and checked Holmes's pulse; it was slow, but steady. Slightly alarmed, I then placed the back of my hand to his forehead; it was cool, the fever that had ravaged his body for a month had dissapated. To my suprise his eyes fluttered open and he gave a weak smile.  
  
"Holmes!" I shouted "By Thunder, I thought you had it this time!" Our landlady flew in and began to weep.  
  
"Oh-Mr. Holmes-I'm So-glad you're-Alright!" she sniffled.  
  
Holmes chuckled softly and said in a hoarse tone, "Now now Watson, you made our dear landlady cry! Tut Tut! A little disease like this couldn't bring me down!"  
  
For the next two weeks, Holmes rested and recovered. His quick recovery was aided by my and Mrs. Hudson's insistance. Progress did not come without consquences however. Through the two weeks he relapsed twice and almost relied on the 7% solution to dull the bordom and fustration he felt.  
  
Breakfast on a Monday left Holmes in a pensive, distant mood. Our landlady broughtour meal and a telegram for my friend. I had dressed as did Holmes. As I sat eating my egg, Holmes gave a gleeful smile. Rushing to the door he threw on his coat and hat and called to me, "Come Watson, the game is afoot!"  
  
I could only stare as my friend bounded down the stairs to the street below. Throwing down my spoon, I too threw on my coat and hat and followed my friend to another case.  
  
The End  
  
A/N: Please forgive me if that was too clich`e. Reviews are welcomed and appreciated, flames however, are not Thanks for reading! More coming soon!  
  
note (1) I don't know exactly what measurement is, I just kinda made that  
up  
  
Note (2) That is another fact made up by the fan-fictionner. Nowhere in  
ACD's story does he mention that. 


	4. Unhappy Endings 4: The Cooper Beeches

Unhappy Endings (Part 4)  
  
By Ms. Neptune Holmes  
  
A/N: Hello again everyone. I do realize that it's been a LONG time since I've worked on this story *cough Four months cough* so I decided to work on it. I am afraid that this chapter will be my final one. I am sorry, but I must get SOME of the stories finished so I can work on others I started. Consider this "the final unhappy ending" of Sherlock Holmes. Enjoy!  
  
To my reviewers:  
  
Adelaide Holmes: Thank you.  
  
Brink: *Takes a bow* Merci. I'm glad you like it!  
  
Nooka: Sorry about the long wait! Actually, Brink asked me to do "Dying Detective. I wish I could read minds, it would be a heck of a lot easier ^_^; Thank you  
  
Frankie McStein: Thank-you. No, you don't' have to beg! lol.  
  
Unhappy Endings Chapter 4: The Copper Beeches  
  
The group of people that surrounded my friend Mr. Sherlock Holmes looked on in horror at the sight of Mr. Ruecastle, the man who had hired our recent client Ms. Violet Hunter. He lay on the ground pale; his throat gashed open and spurting crimson blood. I knelt down to examine the man, and saw that a vital artery brutally severed.  
  
I rose again and shook my head. "The poor man's dead." I said quietly. Toller looked up gravely, and when my eyes averted from the dead man on the soil, I saw Ms. Alice Ruecastle, as well as Ms. Violet Hunter, running up to meet the group of us. At first, the servant tried to persuade the women to return to the manor, but Alice persisted.  
  
"Why do you keep me away? I wish to see my father!" she cried. Despite Toller's effort to keep Alice Ruecastle away, she peered around his arm and saw the figure of her father.  
  
"PAPA!" she exclaimed, breaking away from the butler and falling to the earth where her fallen parent lay. She began to sob hysterically. "Is there nothing you can do for him?" she asked in almost a whisper. I could do nothing but shake my head.  
  
"Oh, papa! Papa!" she cried again hysterical. Toller gently placed his hands on his shoulder.  
  
"Come now, miss. Come away from this gruesome site. You are really not well enough to remain," the man said consolingly, helping her to her feet. Ms. Hunter supported her, and led her away from the scene.  
  
"Well," said Holmes in a monotone, "this is indeed quiet an unkind end to our mystery Watson, "I think it is time that we found the strands of it and try to make them meet."  
  
"I believe my wife could tell you," Toller said.  
  
"Then, we shall met her then," came Holmes' reply. The butler removed his coat, and covered his former master with it.  
  
Later, Mrs. Toller explained that Alice had been gravely ill with brain fever, caused by Mr. Ruecastle. He tried to pressure his daughter to sign over the will so that he could use her money. She had gotten well, though was never quite herself again. When Alice met a young man, her father tried to keep her from the man who she loved. He did this by hiring Ms. Hunter, and by making her look like Alice Ruecastle, and try to give Mr. Fowler, (The name of Alice's beloved) "the cold shoulder," and thus get him to stop loving her. The plan of Mr. Ruecastle however did not go as he wished. He turned the dog loose on us, and Mr. Fowler, to force us to flee. However, this turned deadly as the animal, which had not been fed, turned against his master and attacked him.  
  
Holmes and I escorted Ms. Hunter back to her home in Winchester, and then returned to Baker Street. Two mornings later, as I read the paper, I found a small article that read as followed, to Holmes.  
  
" Double Tragedy for Grieving Daughter" (It read) "Ms. Alice Ruecastle, the daughter and heiress to Jehpro Ruecatsle was committed to an asylum for the insane shortly after ten o' clock am yesterday morning, after the death of her father, who was mauled to death by a large dog. The young woman had recently been very ill with brain fever and was locked in a room. "Her father," said Mrs. Toller, a servant of Mr. Ruecastle kept her from seeing her lover, Mr. Alexander Fowler. He did this to such a point that he hired a woman and ordered her to cut her hair short to look like Alice."  
  
It is speculated that Mr. Ruecastle set the dogs on intruders, but the starved animal turned against its master and attacked. Further tragedy has struck Ms. Ruecastle; shortly after nine o'clock p.m. Alexander Fowler was found dead in his rooms on Hugo Street, which was later confirmed to be suicide. Though it has not been announced to the woman in her present state, Miss Ruecastle has much to grieve."  
  
Holmes stood up, placed his pipe in his mouth and lit it. Going to the window overlooking Baker Street, he said in a stony voice, "This is truly a sorrowful end to a case, Watson. We live in a world of unhappy endings"  
  
The End  
  
~~~~~~~**********~~~~~~~~************~~~~~~~~~~~~~*******~~~~~~~~ To my readers: Thank you for reading my little "Unhappy Endings" series I hope you enjoyed reading them as much as I did writing them. Please don't forget to leave a review and tell me what you thought of this last story. Thank you and so long Sherlockians and Holmesians! 


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